“That does seem hard!” said the good woman, appealing to Eva, who was so lost in admiration of the shawl, that the man’s greedy eloquence half escaped her.
“The owner has been to my shop again and again, wild to get it. At first he wanted to have it back for a little; but now he will pay anything. The last time he said, ‘get it, and I will not count the cost. It is a case of life and death. I must have that shawl.’ Then I went to work in earnest. This was an inducement for one who toils so hard and gets so little. After all my pains, madam will not be so cruel as to take a poor man’s time for nothing.”
“Eva, I think he must have it!”
“Wait a moment. Let me call Mr. Ross. He will comprehend the claim this man has better than is possible for us. He is in the study; I will find him in a minute.”
Eva ran up stairs, while the pawnbroker, half-baffled and wholly anxious, stood eyeing the shawl with mercenary craving, and Mrs. Carter felt like a victim.
CHAPTER LXVII.
THE PAWNBROKER GETS HIS PRICE.
Directly Mr. Ross came down, and followed Eva into the room.
The pawnbroker stepped back to the wall, and uttered an exclamation full of trouble and surprise.
“What! The gentleman here!—here, in this very house! I cannot understand!”
Ross turned, his eyes kindled, and his cheeks flushed.